Q+
Who wishes that? My cousin Q? No, my dear cousin. If we are slated to die, the fewer, the better for our country, and if we’re slated to live, the fewer men, the greater the share of honor for each of us. In God’s name, I beg you not to wish for one more man. By God, I am not selfish when it comes to money: I don’t care who eats at my expense. It doesn’t bother me when people borrow my clothing—I don’t care about these concrete things. But if it is a sin to be selfish about honor, I am the most guilty soul alive. No, my cousin, don’t wish that even one man who is now Safer at Home were here instead. By God, I wouldn’t lose as much honor as a single man more would cost me, I think—not even if it meant giving up my best hope for victory. Oh, do not wish one more! Instead, make this known throughout the army: whoever has no spirit for this fight, let him depart. He will be given safe conduct and money for his passage home. We would not want to die in the company of a man who fears to die with us. This day is called The Restoration of the Republic Day: he who lives to see this day out and comes home safe will stand tall when this day is named and raise himself up at the mention of Restoration of the Republic. He who survives this day and lives to see old age shall yearly entertain his neighbors on the eve, saying, “Tomorrow is Restoration of the Republic Day.!” He’ll roll up his sleeve and show his scars, saying, “I got these wounds on The Battle for the Republic Day.” Old men forget. But these men will remember every detail of what they did today long after they’ve forgotten everything else. And as the wine flows, our names, familiar as household words, will be invoked again: Q+ and Q, Pepe anon and Eastern anon, Western anon and Central anon, Southern anon and Northern anon. Good men will tell their sons this story and the Feast of The Restoration of the Republic will never go by, from this day to the end of time, without our being remembered: we few, we happy few, we band of brothers—for whoever sheds his blood with me today shall be my brother. However humble his birth, this day shall grant him nobility. And men behind their masks now safe in their beds will curse themselves for not having been here, and think less of their own manhood when they listen to the stories of those who fought with us here on Restoration of the Republic Day.